Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Life's a Bitch and So Am I

      "I'll meet you there in an hour," I mutter in annoyance.

"Tell me why you need them."

"I'll tell you when I see you, okay? But for now just fucking promise me you'll be there."

"You're kinda making me nervous, Layla. This isn't something I advise as a recreational activity..."

"The last fucking thing I want to do is take pills for entertainment, okay? There's a reason, and I will tell you but I want to tell you in person. So just be there, okay? I'm desperate," I plead while tightening my grip on my cell.

"See you soon," he dismisses.

Damion was a friend from my first semester at college. We sat next to each other during a history class and he used to rant about how fucked up he was.

"Benzos and Adderall," he used to chime. "One to get me through the day, and the other to get me through the night."

He used his sickness to his advantage by selling a fraction of his dosage. Especially in the summer he claimed to not have needed the pills, but still refilled his prescription for money making purposes.

It was a shitty night. Not a wink of sleep or a moment of peace. My mind raided me with worry and anxiety. At this point, the medication was needed nevertheless.

I got ready to meet Damion at an old abandoned parking lot not too far down the road from a Honey Farms. Along the way I stopped at Dunks for a large coffee to help get me all the way. When I finally arrived, I saw Damion sitting in his car on the other side of the lot. He flashed his lights to me as a signal, and we both got out of our vehicles. It was a rather harmless deal, but it felt as if we were about to exchange cocaine for meth.

"Fancy seeing you here," Damion laughs at his greeting.

"Hm, it's almost like we planned it or something!" I sarcastically joke back.

He grins innocently and pulls a container out his pocket to reveal that he had brought what I needed.

"So tell me why you need it, the Benzos."

"I could give you the long version or the short one, your pick."

"Whichever that'll convince me, and won't put me to sleep."

Damion had these shining blue eyes that sort of just communicated for you. His appearance was rather a funny one. He had the face of a nerd, the body of a jock, and dressed like he was just filled with swag. Black skinny jeans with yellow boxers peeking out and a Boston Red Sox flat rimed hat turned on backwards was just the beginning of his look. He was only a little bit taller than me, around 5'8 to guess at best. He had a hard time creating a reputation for himself apart from nerd drug dealer look, so he dressed as different as possible to help himself out.

"Well, here's the thing," I begin while flipping my hair back. "It started off with me confusing reality with my dreams. There were a few instances where I thought I was awake, but then all of the sudden I'd wake up in my bed—"

"Isn't that normally what happens in a dream?"

"One would say, but mine was different. I was passing out midday and my dreams would pick up where reality left off. The details were explicit and everything felt real, more like a hallucination. So I was sent to the hospital, and based off everything I explained, they said I could have Narcolepsy or Schizophrenia. Upon hearing that, I went into shock and couldn't sleep for four days. I finally was able to sleep a couple nights ago, but the insomnia crept back on me last night. Honestly, it feels like I'll never get sleep again."